Home Again!
by Sisanae
Summary: The great Captain of Crossroad Keep returns, with a hagspawn in tow, from her adventures in Rashemen. But is everyone *truly* that pleased to see her? How much has changed?
1. Chapter 1

Sisanae's Note: Ah, my return to fanfiction. Recently I've contracted my addiction to NWN2 again (It always seems to happen in March. Wierd.), and, well, I've _never_been happy with the official ending of the OC and MOTB. So this was a little plot bunny that just _refused _to go away. I have attempted to put traces of actual seriousness in this story, but they've really been overwhelmed by my love of humourous writing. Ah well! :)

I'm uncertain about which characters _will_be returning, right now, save for a few. Of course, ideally I'd want them all back, but that just wouldn't work; both for drama's sake, and the fact that the story would become far too long-winded! I also don't think my characterisation of Gann is particularly accurate; I have no real love for MOTB, so he may act a bit off. For which, to the Gann fangirls, I apologise!

I hope you enjoy this story :) Reviews are, as ever, love.

* * *

Kiadra Geldrayl stumbled wearily across the beaten path. Dizzy, and limping slightly from the wound of her leg, she squinted at the scrap of paper she clasped in her hand. The moon was low in the sky, casting its cold, tinted glow across the horizon, and giving a strange ghostly illumination to the rain.

Trailing slightly behind her, her companion cursed suddenly as he slipped and fell, ungracefully, onto the muddy floor. He groaned, rolling over and spitting the dirt from his mouth.

"Sometimes, I really, _really_ hate you."

Kiadra gave a weak smirk, pushing her ragged hair from her eyes before turning to offer him her hand.

"If you hate me, oh Gannayev, what exactly are you doing here?" she asked jokingly. The hagspawn batted her hand away, continuing to curse under his breath as he continued to try, and fail, to get upright.

"You know why." he replied haughtily to the hunched back of the drow, as she attempted to read her paper by a hastily conjured, and generally unstable, light globe.

Kiadra paused, looking up with a thoughtful expression.

"Actually, I really don't. Why _are_you here, Gann?"

He sighed in response. "Occasionally, Kiadra, I wonder if you would respond better if I hit you drastically over the head with something."

The bard furrowed her eyebrows, and shrugged. "You do that. Now, according to Safiya's map, by now we should be somewhere within the…Merchant Quarter of Neverwinter?"

Gann looked around, eyeing the reed incrusted river, which was a particularly unattractive shade of brown, the occasional stump of tree, and the decaying pile of rubble that was the current occupancy of a small badger, which glared angrily at him before running off. The hagspawn took a large, clear breath, and then let it out again.

"Well. Neverwinter's certainly gone downhill since you left, hmm?"

Kiadra fell to her knees, in the traditional manner of despairing bards everywhere. "We're lost! It's hopeless! I'm never going to find Crossroad Keep ever again! I'm never going to see them all, I-I.." her sentence trailed off as she began to bawl hysterically.

Gann's eyes widened, but he knelt down, putting one arm around her shaking shoulder. They had been on this road for month after month, as Kiadra refused to rest until she was returned to the waiting arms of, as Gann understood it, the most bizarre, most feuding, and most accident-prone group of people who had ever been gathered in one place. From the bard's fond recollections of their haphazard escapades, Gann had formed the opinion that the simple fact they could last together for so long, let alone defeat an apparently unstoppable evil, was cause for celebration across the Realms' entirety. A kleptomaniac tiefling… a gnome with the manner of a hyperactive eight year old…and a score of humans with opinions that were several acres-worth apart were the ones that scared Gann the most; he was not looking forward to the meeting, and wasn't particularly pleased to be here, but he couldn't let Kiadra do this all on her own.

He just couldn't.

Not after Bishop.

The drow's crying slowed, eventually stopping aside from the occasional hyperventilating gasp. She rubbed her eyes and blinked.

Hearing the silence, and automatically having the compelling want to fill it, Gann piped up again.

"This reminds me of one of the swamps in Rashemen. Do you remember? We traipsed across the whole thing on our own with our dear songbird, whilst we were waiting for Safiya to grace us with her presence, so she could fly us across? Then it turned out she'd walked peacefully around the outside, thinking that we would have taken the shorter, cleaner route as well. With Dovey? Hah!"

Kiadra stood up suddenly, the gleam of inspiration suddenly sparking in her eyes.

"Gann. What was that you just said?" she turned to him, pulling him up as well.

"…Dear Dovey's self-punishment approaches to travel?"

"NO! Before that!"

Gann edged a little away from the bard. The expression on Kiadra's face was rather worrying.

"Safiya? Rashemen? Swamps?"

"SWAMPS!" Kiadra cried, whirling around to point excitedly at the rubble, then at the floor, then at the sky. "Swamps! I know this place! We're…oh Gann, we're in West Harbor!" she beamed triumphantly. "It's a week or so march to the Keep, but we can stop in and get some more water and-"

She stopped when she saw Gann was giving her a long, slow look.

"Kiadra." the shaman said quietly, "Precisely how long, would you say, has it been since you were last in West Harbor?"

"Um…a while."

"Uh..huh. And how long a while, would you say?"

"…A long while. Why do you ask?"

The hagspawn wordlessly placed a hand on either one of Kiadra's shoulders. Turning her, slowly, the drow started to protest, but was silenced as her gaze followed the path of Gann's now outstretched right hand.

A few paces in front of them, was a sign. It was an unusual sign, bent at a peculiar angle thanks to the area's unique brand of tyrannical weather, and its was paint scratched and peeling,

It read, as far as the two of them could see, the words "Rosrod Kep".

***

The halfling village of Leeves was a calm, orderly place. The residents there went about their everyday business, tending fields, hunting, building, and generally behaving as they had before the threat of the Shadow. In this tranquil, ordinary place, there lived a young halfling named Fleet. Fleet was not a brave halfling, or an experienced farmer, or even, for the most part, that intelligent. He had spent a lot of his childhood being made fun of for his simple, unvarnished view of the world, and as such it is unsurprising that what he witnessed, one rather dreary afternoon, was never, ever, shared with anyone.

Fleet sat calmly outside his local tavern, sipping ale after a hard day's work of chores on his brother's farm. Despite the despondent light rain that pattered on the wooden cover above him, and the massing of darkened clouds to the south, the halfling was enjoying himself.

A sudden increase in noise above him made Fleet look up. There was a more forced beating now, but he could not see a change in the rain. He poked an arm out from the cover tentatively, and wiggled it around. Frowning, Fleet noted how the drizzle of rain was…well, a drizzle. Certainly not enough to cause such a racket, which, even now, seemed to be getting louder…

As he looked across the road, a sudden blur to his left caught his eye. Fleet turned, watching the black and silver blur speed closer to him, to the accompanying noise of the patter. Which, as it drew nearer still, Fleet realised were more like footfalls than rain fall.

As the blur drew level with him, Fleet spotted a second, larger blur trailing behind. It was bluer than the first, and stopped suddenly in front of him. A tall man, with blue skin and hair, tumbled to the floor.

"Kiadra, _please_, can we stop now?!" the man gasped; in an accent that Fleet couldn't place.

In the distance, a voice shouted in response, "No! Very close! Very close now!"

The fallen man opened his mouth, seemingly to reply, but then appeared to think better of it. Noticing Fleet, the man stood up. He strolled towards the halfling, gave a curt nod, and promptly downed Fleet's entire tankard of ale.

The man appeared to mistake Fleet's look of surprise as a look of horror, and promptly flicked him a shiny, golden coin from his pocket.

"Buy yourself some new shoes."

Suddenly, the pitter-patter grew louder again, the blur streaking back towards Fleet, stopping briefly to show a female dark elf, with unwashed, straggly hair and a large bruise on her right cheek bone. Before Fleet could call out in alarm, she had grabbed the arm of the blue skinned man, frowning, and the two disappeared into blurs once more.

Fleet had no imagination, so to speak, so knew what he had seen was true. He knew, however, that lots of others did, and as such would not believe him.

He turned the golden coin, which depicted a tall, glamourous wizarding tower that Fleet didn't recognise, over and over in his hands.

Fleet sighed wistfully, and went back into the tavern for another drink.

***

It took only half a day, thanks to Kiadra's spell, for the two travellers to reach the winding, cobbled path that led towards Crossroad Keep's main gates. Kiadra slowed as the fortress came into view, her eyes wide. Everything was, undeniably, a lot different.

Where before there had been only a vast expanse of fields, laying siege to the outer walls, there were now houses, too, spotted daintily around; like minor bumps on the larger tapestry. Small cottages, each backed onto their own, marked plot of land, had smoke curling from their chimneys, and children milling around outside. The fields themselves were full and busy; and a thoughtful person had planted apple trees outside the Keep's entrance proper.

Gann approached the doors, hand raised ready to knock, but his arm was stopped. Kiadra looked at her outstretched hand, then at him; her eyes twinkling.

"Not like that."

"What, is there a special knock for Captains, perhaps?"

"I'm a _bard_, Gann." The drow replied, sweeping her hands out dramatically, "And a hero, returning from a grand journey to her stronghold…she doesn't _knock._ I know how these things are supposed to go."

The hagspawn snorted, but stepped back anyway, rolling off a quick, sarcasm-laden bow. Inside, he was torn. The change in Kiadra as they had neared the Keep was noticeable. For the first time since Gann had met her, she seemed truly eager, excited…

…and something else, which the shaman couldn't quite put his finger on. And whatever it was, it was making him distinctly uncomfortable.

Readying herself, Kiadra breathed deeply, spreading her arms wide in front of the woodwork, hands outstretched and touching one each of the grand doors. The drow shifted her boots, as if checking her weight was spread equally.

Gann, who had sat down cross-legged to watch this escapade, pulled out an apple from Kiadra's dropped pack. After waving at the small crowd of young women who had gathered nearby to watch him, the hagspawn focused again on Kiadra, and began to eat with a vaguely amused expression.

The elf licked her finger, and held it up. Apparently satisfied with the direction of wind, she reached up calmly, and pulled the rest of her hair from her already disintegrating ponytail. Kiadra smiled wide as the hair fell, and was caught again by the wind.

Gann took another bite. "Before we've all grown old and unsightly, if you please."

A sudden look of disgust swept over his features, and the hagspawn paused, before starting to pick the apple seeds from his teeth. He looked around for somewhere to put them, then with a shrug threw them haphazardly behind his head.

One watcher, a dark-haired girl with freckles, broke off from the group quietly, and edged carefully over to where the offending seeds had landed. She bent over, and saw Gann watching her. The girl blushed crimson, and hurriedly straightened up and ran for her house.

The shaman laughed, causing several of his watchers to faint.

Kiadra frowned, but did not move from her pose. "You only encourage them."

"It's not _my_ fault they're not blind. Now hurry up, I _really _don't like the expression on the blonde's face…"

But Kiadra wasn't really paying attention. All her years of bard training had been leading to this _very_moment. Her Pierre de Resistance, her ninth symphony, her _grandest_ masterpiece! Oh, they'd talk about this entrance for years.

Decades, even.

Maybe even centuries…

She threw her weight forward, and pushed.

A few moments passed.

She pushed again.

The doors stubbornly refused to oblige.

In the silence that followed Gann stood up, chucking at his friend's unmoving, horrified expression.

"Oh, for where is Kaji when we need him?" the hagspawn cried, raising a hand in faux drama to his forehead.

Kiadra remained motionless, hands still outspread, her eyes boring into the woodwork.

Gann, sighing, waved his hand hopefully in front of her face, but it was too no avail.

Gann really did not take well to be ignored. He glanced hurriedly around, before sudden inspiration stuck him. Summoning a spirit of the air, Gann poked Kiadra one last time to make sure she wouldn't move, before stepping onto it. Sudden coldness rushed over his boots, creeping up his legs, but he concentrated on keeping his will focused. Slowly, but sporadically, the spirit began to rise, carrying the hagspawn along with it. As the elemental levelled off with the top of the outer walls, Gann stepped daintily off, nearly crashing into a patrolling Greycloak.

"Halt!" the man, quickly gathering his composure, waved his halberd aggressively in Gann's direction. "Stay back, foul beast!"

The shaman raised an eyebrow. The Greycloak was not very old, barely into his thirties, but he already bore many scars of battle; two puncture wounds on his exposed wrist caused Gann to pause, but the man bore no signs of being undead.

"Lovely. Good morning, to you too. Are you in charge here?"

The Greycloak stared at him. This was _not_ how battles against evil beings were supposed to go.

Gann rolled his eyes. "Look, my friend, I'll be frank. I have a lady down there, quite a pretty one," the hagspawn added, jerking his thumb lazily down, "who is about to collapse from a combination of sleep depravation, malnutrition, and failed dramatic aspirations, so unless you want to be cleaning dark elf from your-"

But the man was no longer listening. He had looked down, taken in the frozen form below, with its ridiculously extravagant embroidery, and long tumbles of hair that might once have been, under all the mud and general grime, white.

The Greycloak pivoted, hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted down into the courtyard below.

"The Knight Captain! The Knight Captain! She's _**back!**_"

"Oh, _gods._"


	2. Chapter 2

Sisanae's Note: Yey, an update! Quite pleased with this chapter, although it seems less humourous to me than the first (Or is that simply my imagination? 0.o). And so much for not being long-winded, haha!

Warning: Exclamation Marks in Abudance with old friends. But then again, you'd use exclamation marks a lot in their situation too...right? ;)

Future updates may be slow, as exam season is nearly upon me, and I have to spend my time revising rather than doing things I actually like (Read: Writing and playing computer games :(( )

Please, enjoy! And thanks very much to reviewers, you're all fantastic! :)

Edit: Have updated this chapter and the first with scene breaks; I didn't realise they weren't showing up properly. Hope this makes it easier to read! :)

* * *

Inside Crossroad Keep, all the hells had broken loose.

Greycloaks rushed madly around, barely avoiding collision, stopping occasionally to drag a cloth haphazardly across their armour, or to hurriedly attempt to hide the plentiful glass bottles in any handy bushes, or in one case, a startled kobold.

Captain Kana rushed down from the main Keep, her short hair flying wildly, like a drooping, rain beaten sunflower around her face. As she passed, slouching Greycloaks sprang upright, and fell silent.

Kana screeched to a halt in the inner courtyard, throwing an arm out carefully to remain balanced, and signal the waiting Greycloak, all in one fluid movement.

The unfortunate soldier, who was still trying to get over his bizarre conversations with the blue-tinged denizen of the hells, attempted a salute. Due to his current state, however, he missed by several inches.

"Is it true?" Kana snapped, her eyes flitting back and forth to the gates.

The Greycloak opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He nodded.

Kana's expression froze, but her lips moved a fraction. "Open the gate."

Nobody moved.

"Get that gate open! Right NOW!"

The ensuing noise this statement caused was unbearable; a cacophony of shouts, clangs, and the odd loud thump.

Outside the gates, Gann clapped his hands across his ears.

"Peaceful, she says…" he glared at Kiadra, who had by now collapsed onto the floor, muttering to herself.

As he heard the sound of wood beginning to scrape across the dirt, Gann reached down and pulled Kiadra to her feet. She'd murder him if he didn't. Rolling around on the floor was definitely _not_ inspiring enough for a Captain.

Gann looked up as the doors opened wider, with the drow resting uneasily on his shoulder. He patted her gently on the head, and when this got no response, tapped her once a little harder on the face.

Kiadra's eyes snapped open.

"Keep?"

"Yes, so make sure to stand up straight, hmm?"

The bard pulled herself briskly to attention, pulling her weight from her friend's slowly slipping shoulder. "Yessir, Mr Gann Sir.." she peered suspiciously at him, "Have you always had two heads, sir?"

The shaman covered his eyes with a hand. "Hallucinations. Wonderful. She either thinks she's a soldier, or some form of back alley shop assistant…"

The gates drew back, revealing a devastatingly large horde of onlookers, craning their heads to gain a better view of the returning hero. The calls of a merchant, selling locks of hero hair, and copies of bardic hymns, could be heard over the babble because, well, there was always one.

At the head of the throng was Captain Kana, who, with one hand covering the ear nearest the souvenir seller, shouted across the din.

"Captain!"

Kiadra beamed. "S'right..." she waved cheerfully at Kana, before bringing her right hand smartly up to her nose, "r-reporting for duty, sir!"

She saw the lady's eyes flick repeatedly to Gann, her face a picture of unease.

"S'okay, s'okay. Mr Bluey is with me..." She smiled, before slowly toppling forward.

From the ground, there came a muffled cry, as if someone was trying to speak through a mouthful of small stones.

"Sleeeeep…sleeeeeep!"

Gann frowned. If this was Kiadra's idea of a joke, it really was not very funny.

He turned to Kana, who was watching the drow with an expression of awe, mixed with incomprehensible horror.

"Is she…cursed?"

Gann's eyes narrowed further still. The Sword Coast clearly had an _awful_ sense of humour. "No. Not any more. And who am I having the pleasure of speaking to?"

Kana bowed stiffly. "Kana, sir. Captain Kana, although possibly…" the woman glanced at Kiadra's giggling form, before continuing, "…not any more."

Gann smiled widely, returned Kana's greeting with a voluptuous attempt at kneeling. If the hagspawn had been wearing a hat, it surely would now be held at the woman's boots.

"My dear lady, I am Gannayev, Master of Dreams, Conjuror of Fantasy, and –"

"- Seducer of farm girls, preferably under the responsible age...teehee!"

There was a deafening silence. Kiadra had righted herself suddenly, and was now beaming in an eerily similar way to the Hagspawn, whose smile had gone rapidly very stiff.

Kana eyed him coldly. "…Quite."

The shaman made a swift attempt to compose himself. "Kiadra is very, _very_ tired, _delusional_, may I add - do you have any rooms that are," the hagspawn winked, "suitable?"

The woman nodded. "We've left the _Captain's_ Chambers in their normal state; nobody has touched anything since the Captain disappeared."

"Why?" Gann's inner paranoia, which had only developed recently since meeting the drow, noted how the lady never referred to Kiadra by name.

Kana's face remained carefully impassive. "Respect, I'm sure."

The shaman had the nagging feeling that there was something going on, and he was, as of yet, blissfully unaware of it.

"I…see." He replied, carefully. A realization appeared to strike him, as he tilted his head slightly to the left. "Where have _you_ been sleeping, then?"

"The corridor."

A silence followed, and Gann very carefully took a step backwards.

"I'll just…um…the room, yes, I'll take her there." The hagspawn took the still dazed Kiadra by the hand, and walked very, _very_ swiftly off.

A thought, which had previously been jumping up and down at the back of Kana's brain, made a successful final desperate cart wheeling attempt to grab her attention. The "Now-Deputy-Again" spun around, grabbing the nearest Greycloak by the collar.

"The others?! Did anyone wake the others?!"

The Greycloak, whose name was Juan, trembled. "N-no M-ma'am.."

"DO IT!"

Gann stopped suddenly a few feet from the Inner Keep's doors.

"_Current state?!"_

***

Inside her room at the Phoenix Tail, a woman stirred in her sleep. Light poured through the open window, flitting smartly around the leather tunic that had been hung there. It made its way casually across her bed, stopping briefly to sparkle extravagantly on the hilts of two immaculately polished dagger hilts, which were hidden inexpertly underneath the woman's chosen pillow.

The room itself was not particularly big, but had the well-worn signs of being particularly lived in. The bed occupied most of the space, and was a tumbling mass of blankets and cushions; more like the nest of a hibernating animal than of a young woman. Parallel to this was a small door, covered from top to bottom in a variety of interesting and exotic lock mechanisms, and it was currently being banged viciously on from the other side, to the offbeat of an equally violent stream of dwarven cursing.

"I know yer in there, ye pitiful excuse fer a humanoid! Ye realize it's the middle o' the afternoon, don't ye?"

The bed snored happily in response.

"Bah! To the hells with yer, then!"

The woman blinked blearily, showing flashes of dark red irises, before turning over and attempting to bury her head under her blanket.

***

"T-this is where you _lived_?!"

Gann stood in the doorway of the Captain's Chambers, his eyes wide in shock, as he watched his drow friend stumbled haphazardly across the floor.

"Too clean." She mumbled in response, snapping her head this way and that, searching.

Gann looked around. Clean was not a word he would have even _dreamed _of associating with here. It wasn't dirty; per say, but the sheer magnitude of items was enough to give Gann the overpowering sense of claustrophobia. The floor was littered with magical wands, amulets, and large pieces of undistinguishable rocks with paper labels tacked to them. Across one wall, beside a haphazard pile of paintings, was a row of stacked chests of varying sizes, some half empty, and others with their contents beginning to seep across the floor. A dozen instruments were arranged at the foot of the four-poster bed; three mandolins, a delicately painted harp, and what appeared to be a yard long flute. There were two desks, on either side of a fireplace adorned with seemingly random objects; a mug, emblazoned peculiarly with a picture of a flagon, a bottle, seemingly enchanted so its content of snow would not melt, and a placard spouting the cheerful words "Congratulations, we all knew you weren't a psychopathic town murderer!". One desk was piled high with scrolls and a selection of potion bottles, and this was the one the drow had journeyed towards. She bent down, grabbing a flask at apparent random, and drank it.

Gann rushed forward, one hand raised in preparation to cast whatever healing spell Kiadra's new found health situation would require.

To the shaman's surprise, the bard wheeled around as he drew closer, slamming her own hands around Gann's wrists with the force of a well aimed brick, smiling sweetly.

"That really won't be necessary, Gann _dearie_."

Kiadra released the hagspawn's arms, eyes suddenly drawn back to the desk. She turned slowly, and began to search carefully through the accumulated piles of scrolls.

"..How did you know which… potion?" Gann asked, rubbing his wrists. That _hurt._

Kiadra appeared not to hear him. "Casavir…he's been in here, I can tell…damn _paladin_, always sneaking in here when I was out…_tidying_… ruining the order.."

"This is _order_?" Gann laughed, but stopped when the bard shot him a piercing look.

"Yes." Kiadra replied icily. "These scrolls were all perfectly ordered regarding the occult colour sequences referenced within them, then by ink and brush type, as well as deity and prospective musical beliefs of the author. But _someone_ has been in here, and moved them all!"

The shaman picked up a pile stealthily, and attempted to flick through it. He frowned.

"Kiadra, this is a ridiculous order. Look, you have a Scroll of Resurrection, a Scroll of Heal," Gann waved the paper in front of the drow's face. "Sorted next to a six-page extract of what seems to be the highlights of the delightful world of mud-farming, for the simple reason that they're all written in a brown, italic script!"

Kiadra turned to him, her eyes full of fury, and her mouth almost entirely disappeared into a line. To Gann, the room appeared smaller, darker, and with a much higher risk of death than when he had first entered it.

"Do not. Question. Order." The drow hissed, before grabbing the scrolls from the shaman's unresisting hands, and shoving them into one of the piles.

Gann shoulders dropped resignedly, and he thrust out his lower lip. When Kiadra continued to pay him not attention, the shaman sighed, and walked over to inspect the bard's chests. After giving it a few tentative pokes in case of Kiadra's favourite _friendly _brand of homemade traps, Gann attempted to prise open the exceedingly heavy lid of a dark wooden chest – succeeding for about two inches, before the lid slammed itself shut again. The shaman, not one to back down in the face of even a very _minor_ insult of his pride, leaned down and pulled a dagger from his boot. Advancing on the chest, Gann leapt suddenly; one hand tugging the lid open, and the other rushing in afterwards with the knife.

The inside of the box was nothing but blackness. Gann started to turn away, but as he did so, there was a strangled sound, like a trapped animal, and a long, splotched green and blue tentacle slithered out of the box. Gann swore loudly as the slimy limb wrapped itself calmly around his knife, which he had let go of momentarily to prop the lid up with, and dragged it swiftly back inside.

Angered, the hagspawn swore again and started to claw ineffectively at the lid. "It stole my knife! The chest stole my bloody knife!" He raised his left arm to the ceiling, and started to mutter furiously. The air around his hand started to turn red, and thunderbolts crackled dramatically in the distance.

"Gann! NO!" Kiadra threw herself at the shaman, nearly knocking him over from the sheer force of tiny drow.

"You really don't want to do that." She whispered, raising her eyebrows knowingly.

Gann frowned, crossed his arms, and kicked the chest.

With feeling.

Kiadra opened her mouth again, but a sudden shout from the corridor made both their heads snap back up.

"Where is she?! Godsdammit, tell me where she is! I'm goin' ta give her such a beatin', sneakin' off like that I-"

Kiadra slowly covered her face with her hands, while her companion smirked.

"Friend of yours?"

The door of the Captain's Chamber slammed open, sending a small wooden replica of the not-quite-famous "Duck in Repose" sculpture flying over Gann's deadpan expression head.

"KIADRA! YER ALIVE!" the figure in the doorway froze, index finger pointed accusingly at the drow, who saluted jokingly in response.

"Last time I checked, Khelgar."

The dwarf beamed; the long scar on the right side of his face meeting the edge of his mouth, giving him a strange, lopsided look. His beard was a little shorter than Kiadra remembered, and a few new creases had appeared around his eyes, but they still shone with the same excessive, battle-thirsty hunger she remembered.

Khelgar's happy face clouded for a second. "I tried, lass, I really tried ta get you…"

"I know you did, I know. And put up quite a fight too, I imagine." Kiadra smiled, looking sadly at the dwarf's new battle scar.

"Don't ye worry abou' me lass," Khelgar chuckled, the sadness sliding off his face as quickly as it had arrived, one finger tapping the mark, "this ha' earned me more free ales ha' ye can count!"

"Certainly after the first twelve, I would imagine."

Khelgar laughed again, and had bounded halfway across the room before he stopped, apparently noticing Gann for the first time.

"Who in tha' hells are ye?! Some form o' water demon?!"

The shaman tapped his foot irritably. "Looks like _you_ were certainly at the front when observation was given out, hmm?"

"GANN!"

The hagspawn looked pointedly out a nearby window.

Then, gradually, he turned an interesting deeper shade of blue.

"Kiadra..."

The bard was now sat on the bed, and had picked up her favourite mandolin, tuning it in preparation for her grand retelling of her time in Rashemen.

"Yes, Gann?"

"Not that I'm sure this type of activity is _unusual_ around your residences, but you may be interested to know that a disturbingly fast red shape, with _horns_, has just cannoned its way through into the building." The hagspawn raised an eyebrow. "Just in case it was important."

"Ah, she's finally up then." Khelgar shared a knowing look with his drow friend. "Ye kno' how she is."

"Of course." Kiadra carefully lowered her mandolin, placing it meaningfully behind the bed. Shifting a little, the bard had the expression of one awaiting the inevitable impact.

Khelgar carefully shuffled himself to the wall, and Gann, quick on the uptake, took a few cautious steps back.

They did not have to wait long.

Neeshka barrelled into the room, rushing towards Kiadra and embracing her in a tackle style hug in a few quick moments. The drow fell backwards onto the carefully selected _soft_ surface of the bed, with a small grunt that signified the exiting of all breath from her body.

"Give 'er some air, ye damned tiefling!"

Face flushing, Neeshka grudgingly rolled off the startled drow.

"I knew you'd come back! I told them, I really did! You're too useless to be any harm to anyone, you _had_ to come back safe!"

Kiadra's eyebrows knotted. "Thanks…I think?"

The tiefling gave her another back-breaking hug.

"I've missed you _so_ much! You know Khelgar's been bullying me, right? Every single day, taunting me, being _so_ nasty…"

"ME? I've been doin' the bullyin'?! What abou' ye and the mustard in the privy, ye damned lyin' tieflin'!"

Gann rolled his eyes. "For a moment there, I thought I'd been transported back to early childhood, but no, foolish me, it's just the Sword Coast again..."

With astonishing speed, Neeshka was off the bed, behind the shaman, with one dagger pulled and pressed flat side against his cheek.

"Can we _help_ you, filthy hagspawn?"

Gann, unfazed, clapped his hands sarcastically. "Well, one out of two isn't bad, for a demon child."

Neeshka, eyes still locked on the side of Gann's face, gestured towards him with her tail. "Who is _he_?"

"A friend, Neeshka, a friend. He was my companion in Rashemen, he's saved my life more time than I'd really like to remember."

"He's got a mouth on him."

"So do you, demon child."

"Gann! Stop it! These are my _friends_ too, remember? Neeshka, put the knife away…please?"

With an expression of extreme reluctance, the tiefling sheathed her blade. She disappeared, and just as suddenly reappeared by Kiadra's side again.

Neeshka leant over, and whispered in the drow's ear. "Just a friend?"

Kiadra turned to her, her face completely blank. "Yes."

"So…"

"No."

"Just as well. I know a little someone who'd be rather annoyed if it was-"

Khelgar coughed loudly. "Enough o' this nattering, less yer going ta do it loud enough for all o' us! What now? Kiadra, lass, yer know half the Keep's waiting for ye, so a quiet drink is outta the question."

A thoughtful silence fell on the chamber.

Neeshka twitched her tail and winked at Kiadra. "…Party?"


End file.
